


Voyeur (Camera Two)

by romanticalgirl



Series: polaroid [2]
Category: House M.D.
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-12-05 15:08:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/724685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Take a picture. It'll last longer</p>
            </blockquote>





	Voyeur (Camera Two)

**Author's Note:**

> For [](http://mistress-mab.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://mistress-mab.livejournal.com/)**mistress_mab** because she makes me write these things. I am her unwitting pawn.
> 
> Originally posted 5-5-05

The room is hot and thick and smells like need. House shifts in his chair, adjusting himself, letting his hand linger just long enough, just hard enough to make his cock throb. It’s torture, he thinks to himself as he pulls his hand away, and it turns him on.

He hasn’t had sex in a long time, his leg making the prospect difficult at best and his attitude making it impossible. He refuses to pay for the privilege, since he knows there’s no reason he should. He just needs to learn to keep his mouth shut and fuck in silence, but he’s never quite mastered the art. Besides, with his mouth shut, he misses half the fun.

Perhaps better than all of it, he thinks again as he grips the head of his cane, the phallic imagery not lost on him. Nothing is lost on him. He leans back in his chair and stretches his legs, the slight sensation of the hair rubbing against the hem of his boxers nearly enough to make him moan. He wants this too much, which is why he can’t let anyone know he wants it at all.

The sound is crappy, but it always is until the good parts. He doesn’t care about their conversation. He’s played it through in his head enough to know what’s being said. He’ll deny it. She’ll insist. She’ll explain that she won’t go through with it unless she’s right. He’ll cave in. He can almost hear the defeat in his voice. It turns him on, like most everything about him, but not as much as when he fights him, mocks him, calls him on all of his bullshit. His cock gives another jolt at the thought and he closes his eyes for a second, but not long enough to miss anything.

He doesn’t want to miss this.

Wilson flinches as Cameron grabs his tie and lets it run through her fingers. He has horrible taste in ties, but House attributes them to Wilson’s wife, who knots them every morning for him like a noose. Cameron loosens it and says something that makes Wilson’s color rise and House smiles, his own mind wondering what it would be like to have Wilson strapped to the bed by four garish silk bonds.

Wilson’s fingers shake as he unfastens the buttons of his shirt, his eyes on Cameron as she backs up to the bed and slithers across the comforter. He tugs his shirt from his slacks and leaves it hanging, his white undershirt clinging to his skin. Cameron leans forward and pulls at the white cotton and Wilson nods, hiding his eyes from her as he strips off both shirts. He starts to fold them until she grabs them away from him and tosses them in the corner. His protest is cut off as her shirt comes off as well and joins his underneath an overstuffed and probably uncomfortable chair.

Cameron unbuckles his belt and pushes the leather out of her way as she unfastens Wilson’s slacks. House inhales sharply as Wilson’s fingers thread through Cameron’s hair, tightening into fists as she pushes his slacks and boxers down his legs. House does the shame, shucking his boxers and wrapping his fist around his cock as Cameron’s head sways forward, her tongue darting out to brush over the head of Wilson’s erection.

Wilson’s body is tense and tight as he pulls back from Cameron, his eyes doe-like and regretful. Cameron’s soft laugh comes through as she shakes her head and runs her hand along his chest then back down to his cock before getting to her feet and pressing her half naked body against his.

House forces his hand to stop moving, the throb of his leg and his cock pulsing in time. Cameron kisses him and turns, facing the camera, facing House as she guides Wilson’s hands to her breasts, tilting her head to allow him to kiss the expanse of her neck. She bends forward slightly, looking back at Wilson as she kneels on the bed. He groans and turns her to kiss him, his fingers tightening on her nipples as he plays with them.

Cameron pushes back against Wilson then wiggles free of his grip, on her hands and knees in front of him. She reaches back and guides her skirt up over her ass, exposing the pale flesh. House’s groan echoes Wilson’s as he kneels behind her on the bed, stroking the globes of her ass with shaky fingers. “Allison…”

House’s hand tightens around his cock as Cameron reaches back, the condom package glinting in the bad lighting. Wilson opens it and slips it on, his hand curling around the shaft as he presses it to Cameron’s flesh. She gasps softly and House hisses through his teeth as Wilson penetrates her slowly, his eyes locked on some distant point that, from House’s point of view, is somewhere in the vicinity of his cock.

Cameron groans softly as she turns her head and looks back at Wilson. Her words are intelligible, but the response is obvious as Wilson loses his look of lost insecurity and holds Cameron’s hips, his own colliding with hers as he sets a rapid pace. House matches the speed with his hand, the rough scrape of the calluses from his cane smoothing over his cock with every stroke.

Soft gasps fill the room as Cameron rocks back against Wilson, her hair hanging in her face and her eyes. House spares her a glance, taking in her parted lips and glistening skin and the hard sway of her breasts as Wilson continues to push inside her. His eyes steal upwards and he watches in rapt fascination as Wilson stills suddenly, his head thrown back, his Adam’s apple sliding hard in his throat as he swallows, his whole body exposed as a shudder runs through him and his hands clench at Cameron’s sides.

House’s breath stutters as he feels his orgasm rocket through him, the pain in his leg ratcheting up with the release. Cameron is panting harshly, still moving back against him. Wilson shakes his head rapidly and moves again, thrusting steadily until she comes.

House presses his left hand to his mouth and struggles to breathe, pain etched in his features as he pants softly until his heart rate returns to normal. The vicodin catches in his raw throat but he keeps swallowing until it goes down. He shuts off the monitor, unwilling to watch the recriminations and regrets of the aftermath. Sighing, he limps to his room, setting his alarm extra early. He’s definitely going to owe Cameron coffee for that one.  



End file.
